Hazy Night
by gilgameshforeternity
Summary: Written for a prompt, thor/thor and thor/loki/thor. Rated M


**(A/N) **Written for a prompt

* * *

Honey sweet, that's what this moment tastes like, as if summer cresting over winter's sleeping form could be synthesized into one flavor, golden and charming. Maybe that's what Thor tastes like, deep down in the depths of his soul is a spot overflowing with the glittering substance that moistens the mouth and sates the senses. He'll find out one of these days, when Thor isn't stumbling over his own feet to get a taste of his attention. What little attention he does give, it is soured, cold and calculating and leaves Thor with less than he started. Except it's enough for that foolish man, the vestiges of what's been given to him, they last for days, clutched tight in his fingers and he'll cling to them until the feeling fades and he's hungry once more.

Now, with the weight of Loki's stare dripping down his shoulders it feels like too much, too much to fulfill and too much to swallow but this is his chance. He can feast, he can wade in deep and drown in the feeling of his brother's attention and it feels like living, every horrible gasp for air is life filling him up and overflowing. He stares into the ocean, wavering and roiling and ready to devour, it's him though, that hungry gaze that sinks into his skin like claws and leaves holes. The illusion before him is masterful, crafted to perfection by the dexterous hands of a spider and he's fallen straight into the web, tangled and stuck and wanting. There shouldn't be a feeling so heavy, so strange and foreign that it both confuses and arouses him.

Somewhere Loki sits, watches with eyes unashamed and waits, plucking musically at the web he's spun. How easy it is to convince a man so desperate for air that he will get what he wants if only he performs an act more insidious than the one first requested. From here, seated amongst luxury and finery the only thing that could be more interesting is the sight before him. He breathes in deep, smells the apprehension and desire in the air and fingers the silky strings that drift unseen. This slow dance bores him, he did not invite his brother into a realm of dark enticement just to see him flounder, there is more waiting just beneath the surface. He sets the clone on his brother, watches as the prince of Asgard tenses and feels how quickly the net he's cast about his own throat can tighten and coerce.

The two barely make it to the bed and Loki is amused by the sheer avarice the clone displays, the heightened sense of urgency moves his plan along with exceptional timing and the night will barely be over before they all get what they want. Thor is stubborn, clinging to the notion that he, prince of Asgard is mightier than all, even himself and the struggle on the bed continues as the two strip and bite and feel what it is like to taste familiar flesh and revel in it. They are evenly matched it would seem, but Loki didn't come here to watch his brother tousle with himself, he came here to indulge and that's what's going to happen. With the barest twitch of a finger he turns the table, makes it so the dull foreplay ends with Thor pinned, panting and staring up at his partner, at himself. Yes, this is what he wants, what he sees in Thor that, ironically, only his clone can make him see. He may be the golden prince but he is just as dirty and pitiful as everyone else.

Thor cannot see his brother but he knows the trickster is the mastermind behind his defeat, Loki is behind everything. He takes a shuddering breath, smells sweat and desperation between himself and the clone, it's heady and dizzying but the way they grind together, erections pressed through the only clothing they have left is intoxicating. Too be aroused and...and desiring his own body it feels wrong but the idea is quick to drip into the cracks of his wavering determination and fill them with anticipation. It's unexpected and when his other self starts to pull at the last of their clothing he knows how real this is. Watching hands that look like his, seeing his face with a look of dark intent, it feels surreal, every breath he takes isn't enough and it simmers beneath his skin.

He's done well, crafted the tone of the evening carefully and it plays without a hitch, Loki rises, glides around the bed to watch and drink in the sight of his brother about to be taken. Such beauty, something precious and falsely gilded in its implied rarity cannot be viewed from so far away. Quietly Loki seats himself at the head of the bed; it's enthralling to watch how Thor cringes, bites his lip and growls like an animal being tamed. When the clone bottoms out inside his brother he holds up a hand and it goes still and Thor groans low looking up to his brother with accusations held at bay. The barest hint of a smile lights onto Loki's lips and he tilts his head, regards the sight of a cock stuffed into his brother and then waves his hand to let the moment continue.

The clone is neither easy nor very loving and Loki hums in amusement as Thor is worked over. There's a low, underlying hum to all of this, working through their veins and it dances over nerves, anticipation and excitement bubbling up to lave over what was once anxious curiosity. He likes this, the way his brother has fallen so deeply into this entrapment and lifts his hips ready for more. Loki leans forward and brushes his hand through the hair of his brother's copy, feels the slickness of their exertions and he thinks his brother looks better this way. The hand travels lower, rises and falls with every thrust and he works in between the men's hips. Thor makes a noise, it's confused and sweet and Loki hums in pleasure as he wriggles a finger in next to the clone's cock. He murmurs a few words and his brother takes a shuddering breath as his insides are slicked. Already the coupling has a sharper edge to it as the clone drives deep and Thor's voice grates over a moan.

That spot, the one Loki was partially sure was nestled deep down in his brother's soul, he thinks, or maybe he knows it must taste different now. No longer sweet and pleasant, no, it must have caramelized, become something so much more exotic to taste. Things will be better this way and Thor won't be able to say otherwise, not once he's savored all that Loki can give him.

There's a haze around the room, lust and sweat and the musk of strained desire and Loki can feel his arousal a low burn in the background, waiting. He watches quietly, expectantly and Thor is lost to him right now, the man clutching his copy and gripping the sheets like a virgin on her wedding night. Their moans grow throaty, rough and the thick jungle of golden hair parts enough that he can see two sets of ocean deep eyes. His brother and the copy tense, how poetic he thinks and he hums quietly as thick white streaks paint his brother's chest and stomach, glistening and enticing.

They pant, deep breaths to calm their pounding hearts and Loki leans close, strokes and hand through his brother's hair and appraise the look of bliss and weak defiance.

"Had enough brother mine," he whispers, silky and teasing as he places a kiss to the man's temple.

Thor has barely caught his breath before reaches up, fist and hand into a tangle of black hair and catches Loki's mouth against his.


End file.
